xen

We had the 4th best D against TEs this year after all was said and done. Also near the top vs WRs. RBs not so much

Well they can't put it on the internet if it's not true.

Niners defense is a mirage. Just wait. If it's a shootout they can't keep up.

Nah it's more just a function of the grades. Ford was not on the field except for obvious passing situations. I would expect him to be graded higher because of that. If you put it in context it makes sense. Fuller same situation.

The lions and the hippo at the Cincinnati zoo picked the chiefs, so you know... that obviously means we'll destroy them. The cheetah picked the 9ers which I feel is just wrong on so many levels, plus pretty sure it was high.

It's because the 9ers don't even try to play Ford against the rush. Armstead plays the rush downs and Ford comes in on passing downs. Pretty much the 9ers paid Ford all that money to be a part time player. Since the 9ers have effectively negated the half of Ford's game that is awful, of course he'll have a high score. On Clark, their grades are cumulative so his score will be dragged down by the first half of the season when he wasn't playing so well. Analytics is awesome but context matters.

lolololololol

No

No went to mizzou. Fuck the Jayhawks. At least we can agree on that. There's a bunch of them motherfuckers around here. lol welcome to the board though. I always liked Bill Snyder if it helps. Have a set of rules he wrote somewhere around my office. Smart dude.

I have a prediction... If we do lose, I'm banning the first idiot that says we never win cause of Andy Reid.

One consequence of us becoming 100% better on the dline with stunts is that our oline has become much much better in picking them up this year. The Pat's killed us in the first half with those last year in the AFCCG. This year not so much. I assume that's due to them spending more time being able to practice against it.

lol I was thinking it but decided not to go full Mex. You never want to go full Mex. Unless you're Mex.

Yep. And the production considering what he's had to work with is pretty pretty pret-tay good.

Love the Stram suit.

Super Bowl LIV: Checking flashy narratives around Chiefs, 49ers http://www.nfl.com/news/story/0ap3000001099508/article/super-bowl-liv-checking-flashy-narratives-around-chiefs-49ers Keegan Abdoo and Mike Band NFL.com There is plenty of time between Championship Sunday and Super Bowl Sunday for narratives to take root -- and some are stronger than others. Below, Keegan Abdoo and Mike Band apply Next Gen Stats to discern the truth behind five bold-type narratives surrounding Super Bowl LIV. NOTE: Unless otherwise specified, all stats include playoffs. 1) The elite 49ers' pass rush will overwhelm Patrick Mahomes Abdoo: Not so fast. The 49ers generated pressure on 33.6 percent of pass plays over their first seven games of the 2019 season (the second-highest rate in the NFL over that span), but from Week 9 on, they fell to 28th in team pressure rate (22.2%). The culprit? The 49ers' pass rush underachieved against tougher competition and mobile quarterbacks. Seven of San Francisco's last 11 opponents featured offenses ranked in the top 10 in hurry probability allowed (the Cardinals and Packers twice, and the Ravens, Rams and Saints once), and seven featured mobile quarterbacks (Arizona's Kyler Murray twice, Seattle's Russell Wilson twice, Green Bay's Aaron Rodgers twice and Baltimore's Lamar Jackson once). Hurry probability allowed reflects the likelihood that a quarterback will be under duress within 3 seconds of the snap; the lower the rate, the better the protection. These trends suggest the 49ers' pass rush might not live up to expectations against a strong offensive line and an evasive quarterback. The Chiefs ranked first in hurry probability allowed (9.3%) this season, and Mahomes has been the sixth-lowest pressured quarterback since returning from a knee injury in Week 10 (20%). Band: Andy Reid is certainly aware of the talent level across the 49ers' defensive line. I would not be surprised if the Chiefs' first few drives featured a high percentage of quick passes, to limit the early impact of Nick Bosa, Dee Ford, DeForest Buckner and Arik Armstead. It was the strategy taken in Patrick Mahomes' first two games back from a knee injury (Weeks 10 and 11), as a method to keep Mahomes clean in the pocket; 62 percent of his attempts took less than 2.50 seconds, well above his season average (43%). The 49ers' Cover 3-based scheme is built around limiting big plays at the expense of allowing separation underneath. 49ers opponents average the lowest air yards per attempt (6.9) this season, which suggests tight end Travis Kelce and running back Damien Williams could be heavily targeted in the passing game. THE TRUTH: Mahomes and the Chiefs will likely be tougher for this Niners front to stop than you might expect. 2) Jimmy Garoppolo's passing efficiency numbers suggest he's a top-tier quarterback Band: While Garoppolo finished in the top five in completion percentage (68.8%) and yards per attempt (8.3) this season, it's been Kyle Shanahan's scheme and the skill-set of his receivers that have propelled Garoppolo's passing efficiency. Consider: -- 69 percent of pass attempts target receivers between the numbers (he was the only QB to do so at a rate greater than 65 percent). -- 56 percent of his passing yards have come after the catch, the second-highest YAC percentage among QBs. -- 31 percent of his dropbacks have been off of play-action, the highest rate among QBs. Abdoo: Garoppolo's league-leading deep completion percentage of 58.1 percent (Patrick Mahomes is second at 47.1 percent) is correlated strongly to the separation created by play-action. Garoppolo's deep targets average 2.9 yards of separation from the nearest defender, 0.5 yards more than any other quarterback. Garoppolo rarely throws deep (6 percent of all attempts, the lowest rate among qualified quarterbacks), but when he does, it's often off of a play-action fake (48 percent of deep attempts, well above the NFL average of 22 percent). THE TRUTH: Jimmy G's support system is driving his success. 3) Nick Bosa is the most important 49ers defensive lineman Abdoo: Nick Bosa has had one of the most dominant rookie seasons from a defensive player in recent memory, putting himself in the Defensive Player of the Year conversation. Only the Packers' Za'Darius Smith and Cowboys' Robert Quinn have generated a higher pressure rate than Bosa's 14.0 percent this season among 89 defenders with 300-plus pass rushes. But while Bosa has made several game-changing plays, it's been Dee Ford's on-field presence that has correlated strongest with Nick Bosa's pass-rush production. Out of Bosa's 12 sacks, nine came with Dee Ford also on the field, despite Ford being on the field for just 161 of Bosa's 493 pass rushes (33%). On a per-play basis, Bosa generates a sack every 18 pass rushes with Ford, compared to every 111 pass rushes without Ford! Band: Dee Ford's effect on the 49ers' defense goes beyond Nick Bosa's production -- the defense generated pressure on 34.2 percent of pass plays with Ford on the field (would rank first in the NFL) and 22.7 percent of pass plays without Ford (would rank 29th). There's no denying Nick Bosa's DROY season has been more prolific than Dee Ford's season by volume. Ford missed five games between Week 12 and the postseason, and he never played more than 60 percent of the defensive snaps in the 13 games for which he was active. But when Ford has been healthy, his presence has allowed Nick Bosa and Arik Armstead to play fewer snaps, keeping the defensive-line rotation fresher late in games. Consider: -- Nick Bosa: 73 percent play-time when Ford is active; 83 percent when Ford is inactive. -- Arik Armstead: 72 percent play-time when Ford is active; 81 percent when Ford is inactive. Ford is only one season removed from finishing with the second-most QB pressures in the NFL (69 in 2018, behind only Aaron Donald's 72), and he's certainly capable of winning with speed off the edge. Ford's average pass-rush get-off time, which measures how long it takes a pass rusher to cross the line of scrimmage after the snap, ranks third among edge rushers this season (0.77 seconds). In his return in the Divisional Round against the Vikings, Ford provided a much-needed boost to the 49ers' pass rush rotation with speed off the edge. Ford's average pass-rush get-off (0.62 seconds) was among his fastest in a game all season. THE TRUTH: Bosa has been great, but Dee Ford might be the key. 4) Tyreek Hill is the most explosive offensive player in this game Band: Tyreek Hill is no doubt one of the fastest players in the league today, having reached 20-plus MPH on 20 touches over the last two seasons, six more than any other player in that span. It would not come as a surprise, however, to see someone else make the biggest play on Super Bowl Sunday. Rookie wide receivers Mecole Hardman and Deebo Samuel are both more than capable of creating in the open field with elite speed. Mecole Hardman is responsible for the seventh-, ninth- and 12th-fastest speeds reached by a ball-carrier this season (21.87 MPH top speed), and he's reached 15-plus MPH on a higher percentage of touches (73%) than Tyreek Hill (72%) this season (both rank No. 1 and No. 2 in that metric). On the other side of the field, Deebo Samuel has displayed unique ability to create plays in the running game, reaching the fourth- and sixth-fastest speeds on run plays by a wide receiver this season (21.27 MPH top speed). Samuel has also shown off run-after-the-catch ability, averaging 8.6 YAC per reception, second-best among wide receivers with at least 50 receptions this season. Abdoo: Coordinator Robert Saleh's 49ers defense is built around cornerbacks aligning in off-coverage, which helps negate the effectiveness of the deep passing game -- and could impact Tyreek Hill's big-play ability. 49ers cornerbacks aligned in off-coverage (with 5-plus yards of cushion) on 60 percent of routes faced this season, the fourth-highest rate in the NFL. This has been a useful strategy against the Chiefs over the past two seasons, as Hill averages 11.7 air yards per target and 1.9 yards per route against off-coverage, compared to 19.7 air yards per target and a league-leading 3.4 yards per route against press coverage. THE TRUTH: The Niners might be able to slow Hill -- but other WRs could pick up the big-play slack. 5) The 49ers will dominate in the running game Abdoo: The 49ers' running game is predicated on speed and power -- no team features a faster trio of running backs by top speed (Matt Breida: 22.30 MPH; Raheem Mostert: 21.87 MPH; Tevin Coleman: 21.09), and no team runs more from I-formation (43 percent of runs). This is an area where the Chiefs' defense has struggled, allowing an NFL-worst 6.4 yards per carry and 10-plus yards on 20 percent of runs when opponents line up in I-formation. Band: The mismatch between the 49ers' running game and the Chiefs' run defense becomes less important if the Chiefs jump out to an early lead. Game script will play a role in determining whether the 49ers can take advantage of their opponent's biggest weakness. If the 49ers do find themselves with a lead in the second half, expect them to lean heavily on Raheem Mostert and his lead blocker, Kyle Juszczyk, to control the time of possession and keep Patrick Mahomes off the field. THE TRUTH: They CAN -- but only if game circumstances play to their advantage.

Have fun bro! p.s. KSU sucks

JFC dude. It's superbowl week. Wtf?

Well they are either going to try and take Hill and Kelce out of it, freeing up Sammy, Damien and Mecole for 1on1's (which I like our chances on) or they will try and play everyone straight up, which i also like our chances on.

Hard to shorten the game on us when we're destroying the red zone.

Thanks Wilkie

https://www.chiefs.com/news/longforms/the-andy-reid-story The Andy Reid Story A Life of Family, Football and Friendships By BJ KisselJan 28, 2020 Photographs By Jim Berry The clock says 3:30 a.m. The weather is bitter cold and it's hours before many of those he works with will be at the office, but it doesn't matter to him. There is work to do and even more importantly, there is somewhere he will soon have to be. It's 1992 and Andy Reid is the new tight ends coach for the Green Bay Packers. After 10 years at the collegiate level, he was given an opportunity by an old friend to reunite in the NFL. The drive to the office is short, normally less than 10 minutes. He, his wife, Tammy, and their five children live close enough to make this work. The 3:30 a.m. arrival wasn't just about putting in the time at his new job or competing to get there first with his fellow assistant coaches—something that was par for the course with that group, but because of something far more important to Andrew, as only Tammy calls him. Family. The only thing in his life that would ever trump his love for football would be his love for family. "He would go in at these crazy hours and then he would come home by a quarter to 7 and do breakfast with the kids," Tammy explained. "He then would drive one group to school and I would take the others." It was a routine. The early mornings at the office were a way for Reid to get some work done, but then get home to spend some quality time with his family before their day got started, even though his had already been going for four hours. In this way, he wouldn't fall behind in either of his duties—helping scheme ways for his old friend, Mike Holmgren, to find success on offense, while also staying true to his most important job—being a father. It's a balance he and Tammy have worked on together as a football family for the last 38 years, and through all of those years, the foundation of family, friendship and respect for those who have helped them along the way has always grounded the two through a life in the spotlight. CHAPTER ONE ''He just had this heir about him'' Andrew and Tammy were students together at Brigham Young University, and as fate would have it, both enrolled in the Fundamentals of Tennis class together. "He had this heir about him—this confidence," Tammy recalled of Andrew, a member of the BYU football team, "but he wouldn't ask me out, and I'd never not had a guy that I wanted to ask me out not ask me out. So the second half of the semester, since it's a half credit, we played badminton. We were playing after he had already beaten me at tennis and I'm like, 'Well, I could beat you at racquetball.' "He's like, 'OK, well let's go play racquetball.'" All of Tammy's friends knew the day they were going to play at the Smith Fieldhouse on the campus of BYU, and they were all peeking through the windows as the game, or for lack of a better term, shellacking, went on. "He killed me," she laughed. "Even though I'm really good, he killed me." After the game was over, they sat together in the bleachers and that's when Andrew asked Tammy out to a movie that Friday night. Their first official date would be on December 7—the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. While Tammy was so nervous that she can't recall the movie they saw that night, she can recall the date because of how much it meant to him. It's a day that has always been important to Andrew as both his father and uncle were in the Navy during World War II. His father was sent to Pearl Harbor as one of the first responders, while his uncle's ship was out in the Pacific at the time and was hit by a torpedo. He thankfully lived to tell about it. But their date led to another, and another, and just like that—things had gotten serious. It wouldn't be long before Tammy found herself at one of the most historic college football games in history—sitting with his parents, and the lessons she learned from that game still hold true to her today. It was the 1980 Holiday Bowl, commonly known to BYU fans as "The Miracle Bowl." Newspaper clippings from the 1980 Holiday Bowl where BYU played SMU. The game featured a pass-happy BYU offense led by future NFL quarterback Jim McMahon and his 409.8 yards passing per game, which led all of college football that year, as did the team's 46.7 points per game. They were matched up against an SMU team that couldn't have been more different offensively. They were led by the backfield tandem of Craig James and Eric Dickerson, who were nicknamed the "Pony Express" and would combine to run for more than 330 yards in the game. Newspaper cover for BYU's 1980 victory in the Holiday Bowl Dickerson would later go on to the NFL and a Hall of Fame career in his 11 seasons with the Los Angeles Rams (1983-87), Indianapolis Colts (1987-91), Los Angeles Raiders (1992) and Atlanta Falcons (1993). Heading into that game back in 1980, BYU had never won a bowl game in their program's history. With four minutes left, they trailed 45-25. It was all but over. "People were walking away and we were up in the nosebleeds," Tammy recalled. "I don't know why we got such bad tickets. I was with his parents, but I'm screaming at people to sit down and saying, 'This game is not over!' "They were looking at me like I was crazy. I'm sure his parents thought I was crazy because we didn't know each other very well at the time." McMahon threw a touchdown to Matt Braga to get the score within two possessions with a little more than 2 minutes remaining in the game. Then, the first of two low-percentage special teams plays went BYU's way. First, they recovered the ensuing onside kick. Just a few plays later, BYU was in the end zone again on a 1-yard touchdown run by Scott Phillips. Now they only trailed by 6 points, but time was still an issue. This time it was the defense's turn to make a play, and they were able to shut down SMU's dominant running game on the next possession, setting up a fourth down. Then, the second of two miraculous special teams plays happened that gave BYU an opportunity to win. With less than 20 seconds remaining and trailing by just 6 points, BYU blocked the punt and recovered the ball at the SMU 41-yard line. Unbelievably, they still had a shot. The first pass from McMahon fell incomplete deep down the right sideline, and there was time left for just one play. McMahon, who had already engineered a couple of late touchdowns to get them within striking distance, found Clay Brown on the final play of the game on a miraculous Hail Mary touchdown between several SMU defenders. The extra point gave BYU a 46-45 victory. BYU had scored 21 points in the final 2:33 to win the game. After going winless in their first four bowl appearances as a program, including consecutive Holiday Bowls in the previous two seasons, Edwards and company pulled off one of the greatest comebacks in college football history that night at Jack Murphy Stadium in San Diego. The "Miracle" Catch in the 1980 Holiday Bowl "That was my first experience with football and trusting that no matter how bleak it looks, I always believe Andrew and his guys will figure out a way to do it," Tammy said. It's a lesson that would serve her well later in life, when a team would struggle to a 1-5 start, or trail 24-0 early in a home playoff game, but no matter how bleak it looked, she always trusted that Andrew would figure out a way to get it done. Tammy and Andrew were married on August 8, 1981, just 232 days after that miraculous win over SMU. CHAPTER TWO Before BYU, there was John Marshall High School in Los Angeles Andy Reid grew up in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles and lived in the same house until he left for college. That house, which perched atop the hill on Holly Knoll Drive, was close enough to see the lights of Dodger Stadium at night and sat just a mile away from the famous Hollywood Boulevard. It was an ethnically diverse neighborhood. Throughout his childhood in Los Angeles and even into his high school years, race relations were volatile, particularly in his neighborhood, but that didn't matter to Reid. All of these children were his friends—the ones he'd begun playing football with when he was 5 years old. He would be seen as a leader among his peers for keeping things together and uniting his teams. His father, Walter, worked as a scenic artist. His mother, Elizabeth, was a doctor of radiology. As a kid, Reid could often be found following his older brother, Reggie, around everywhere. "Would you get your little brother out of here? I'm sick of him coming up to me and asking for my chin strap," would be the kind of thing Reggie's friends would often say, according to Dick Kiwan, Reid's high school basketball coach and a friend he still talks regularly with to this day. Dick Kiwan (far left) and Andy Reid Reid, who was 10 years younger than Reggie, was the ball boy for the John Marshall High School Varsity football team. He'd do anything he could to be around his older brother—his hero. The school, which is where most of the film Grease was shot and would years later be home to Leonardo Dicaprio and Will.i.am, was only a couple of blocks away from their house, so it was easy for Reid to always be around. All that time hanging around his older brother and playing with the kids in the neighborhood paid off for Reid, who was a standout athlete even before he got to John Marshall. As a 13-year-old, Reid competed in the national Punt, Pass and Kick competition, towering next to a kid in a now-infamous photo and video. Andy Reid competes in a Punt, Pass and Kick competition as a child The competition took place during a Monday Night Football broadcast. As it turned out, the kid behind him was actually in the 8-year-old division. A funny part of the whole thing was the organizers had to go into the Los Angeles Rams locker room to find a jersey that would fit him. When Reid was a kid, it wasn't just about football though. "When I first met him, he was always hanging around the gym, always had a basketball in his hand," Kiwan recalled. "After his school was out, he'd be up in the gym shooting baskets or hanging around the football field. I'd start my basketball practices and have to shoo him out of the gym." Once he got to high school, Reid was one of just two sophomores to make the varsity football team. He recalls to this day the lessons he learned from those upperclassmen. "I remember the seniors getting after myself and the other kid and really making us grow up," Reid recalled. "They did a good job with that. They tested us." By the time he was a senior, Reid had established himself as one of the best athletes in the area, lettering in football, basketball, baseball and track. He was named the most inspirational athlete on his football team as a senior, playing along the offensive and defensive lines while also handling the kicking duties. "Andy is a great guy, but when he got on the football field, something clicked and he was nasty," Kiwan recalled. He led the team to a 7-3 record that final year, with three of the games being decided on his game-winning field goals. "The school had traditionally not been a great football school," Reid recalled. "My senior year, we were able to get ourselves in the second round of the city playoffs, which was a big thing at that time." Reid's affinity for physicality carried over to the other sports he played as well, which was a problem, particularly in basketball. Kiwan remembered one game in particular against Hollywood High School during his junior season. "I put him in at forward and he had four fouls in less than 2 minutes," Kiwan said laughingly. "I remember pulling him out because he was just dribbling down the floor and running over people. I remember taking a timeout and saying, 'Andy, what are you doing?' and he looked at me like, 'What?' "The competitive juices were flowing so much from leaving football and getting into basketball, he couldn't help himself." While the humor may not have been on both sides of that situation at the time, the relationships Reid developed with his high school coaches would become lifelong friendships, ones that would include inside jokes they remember three decades later. Kiwan shared a story about a day Reid came to the coach's office, a place he'd often frequent between classes, complaining about his ankles. "He came in the PE office and said 'My ankles are killing me,'" recalled Kiwan. "The defensive coach, who Andy was really close with, told him, 'Aw, you're OK, you damn baby. There's nothing wrong with that ankle.'" But it's what happened next that makes the story memorable more than 30 years in the making. "'Wait, we've got something here that I can put on that that's going to really help that. It's a special solution from Chicago,'" Kiwan said he told Reid, "and so I went into the coach's shower room and got some of that powdered soap out of the container, mixed it up into a paste and put it on a towel. I came out and said, 'Andy, we got this special solution from Chicago. What's going to happen now is you're going to take your shoe off, get your ankle up on the desk and we're going to put this paste on it.' "'But I don't want you to move your foot. You just keep it absolutely still for 20 minutes until we come back, and you'll feel that it's going to draw that pain right out of there and that swelling is going to go down and that thing is going to feel 100 percent better.'" The coaches left, snickering. "We leave, have some coffee, come back about 20 minutes later and there he is in the same position on the table sitting up with that paste on there. I said, 'I know that it feels better,' and the defensive coach said, 'Oh yeah, absolutely, it has to feel better.' "I said, 'Did you feel the pain coming out?'" "Andy said 'Yeah, you know, I'm moving it and it feels pretty good.' "The other coach said, 'Stand up on it, let's see how it is,' and Andy said 'Oh yeah, look at that, it's 100 percent better. You know, I think this really helped me.' The coaches obviously had a good time with Reid, who was quick to recall this story a few years ago when they were visiting him during his time as the head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles. "We were back in Philadelphia and he was taking us around showing us the training facilities and I said, 'This is great, but one thing I want to know, do you have the special solution from Chicago?' and he said 'Oh, that was BS. I knew that was BS.' "And I said, 'Oh yeah? You sat there for 20 minutes.'" The ankle was fine, and Reid played well enough his senior year to start talking with some colleges in the area about playing football at the next level. Growing up in Los Angeles at the time meant, as a football fan, it was all about USC. They had talked with Reid coming out of high school but didn't offer him a scholarship. They actually recommended that he go to a particular junior college and develop there as a player and they could follow his progress. That school was Glendale Community College. "I was very lucky to do that," Reid said. " I mean they wore the exact same colors as USC, but the offensive line coach there had been an All-American at USC—Mike Scarpace. "He had a tremendous influence on me and really taught me how to play offensive line." Scarpace, who passed away earlier this year, spent his college days blocking for future Kansas City Chiefs running back Mike Garrett, who ran in the famous "65 Toss Power Trap" touchdown from 5 yards out in Super Bowl IV. After Garrett was drafted and signed by the Chiefs in 1967, Scarpace blocked for a junior college transfer who would go on to make plenty of headlines throughout his football career and life—running back O.J. Simpson. The connection that might be the most interesting of them all is that Scarpace's college teammate was Mike Holmgren, who would become a huge part of Reid's life a few years later, and for many more after that. "We had a great head coach in Jim Sartoris and John Cicuto—the defensive coordinator. All these guys, I'm actually very close with, so I'm very lucky in that way." Reid earned honorable mention All-American honors after a standout season at Glendale, helping coach Sartoris earn his first championship. After developing as a player under Scarpace and company at Glendale, Reid had a scholarship lined up to play at Stanford to further his playing career. "At the time, you could talk to colleges and take visits before your bowl game," he explained. "So my last game at Glendale, we go to a little bowl game against Saddleback College. I had already been scheduled to go to Stanford and had been accepted, and then I blew out my knee in that game." Just like that, Reid's plans had changed. His good friend and the guy playing next to him along the offensive line, Randy Tidwell, was looking at BYU and mentioned to Reid that he should come with him on his visit now that his future was up in the air. Reid agreed and wound up enjoying the trip. The late-LaVell Edwards, the iconic coach at BYU who won 257 career games and was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 2004, had already been looking at Tidwell, and after the visit, Reid became part of the package of getting both of them to BYU. LaVell Edwards (left) and Andy Reid Edwards quickly noticed how perceptive Reid was about playing along the offensive line. "We'd be out there practicing and working, and there'd be questions coming up on how to pick up a certain blitz," Edwards noted. "I noticed a lot of times [Reid] was helping the guard, the tackle or the center next to him, to make sure they understood what to do if there was some kind of stunt or whatever they did. "I remember saying at the time that this guy's got an unusual feel and knowledge of the game." What stood out to Edwards is how Reid wanted to understand more than just his responsibilities. 1980 BYU football team photo "He not only learned and knew what his assignment was, but also the reasons why and the concept of what you're trying to do," Edwards recalled. "A lot of players didn't have that concept or ability, but Andy did. He had a feel for it. "That's one of the things I admire most about him, and it made me think the more I was around him, the more I watched him, I realized this guy could be a very good coach." At the time, coaching wasn't on Reid's radar. At different points in his life, he wanted to be a doctor, or even a writer—something he dabbled in during his time at BYU. Reid had kept a journal since he was in 11th grade, and during a trip back from Hawaii with the football team at BYU, he was talking with one of the writers of the Provo Daily Herald about his passion for writing. He was minoring in English and the guy asked him if he'd be interested in writing a weekly column for the paper. Reid agreed to do it. "I wrote about our guys and had fun with it," he explained. "It was kind of Jim Murray-ish (the legendary LA Times writer who often used humor and wit in his articles). I'm not going to tell you I was a great writer, but it was fun to do. "I had a dream when I was a kid to write for Sports Illustrated, but it never worked out that way," explained Reid, who would soon find his true calling. "It wasn't until just before my senior year that coach Edwards asked me if I had ever thought about coaching." That's how it started. A simple question followed by an offer. The player who had made it a point to understand everyone's responsibilities, not just his own, and would work with his teammates to make sure they understood what they were doing on any given play, would soon embark on a coaching career that has helped shape the lives of hundreds of others lucky enough to cross paths with him. "I was very fortunate to play for him," Reid said of Edwards, whom Reid still spoke to every week before Edwards passed away in 2016. "He was a tremendous human being and a big influence on me not only as a player, but even now as a coach." Reid became a graduate assistant football coach for BYU in 1982. "He immediately stood out to me," Mike Holmgren, who was responsible for the graduate assistants at the time, said of his first impression of Reid. It was Holmgren's first year at BYU after spending the previous three years coaching the quarterbacks at San Francisco State under the legendary Vic Rowen. Before that, Holmgren had spent the previous 10 years coaching high school in the San Francisco area. Rowen had given him his first opportunity above the high school level. "It was just his work ethic, his personality," Holmgren added. "I think we just hit it off right away. I gave him more responsibility the more I knew him, and whenever I needed things done in my house or whatever, he'd always volunteer to come over, so we'd work together and we'd laugh together." Holmgren came to coach the quarterbacks at BYU, and he had a pretty good one to groom after they lost McMahon, who was the No. 5-overall pick in the 1982 NFL Draft by the Chicago Bears. McMahon would be a two-time Super Bowl champion during his 15-year NFL career. The young quarterback Holmgren was there to help develop was a guy by the name of Steve Young, who would also go on to a pretty good football career. CHAPTER THREE The life of a traveling coach begins Reid stayed at BYU as a grad assistant for just the one year in 1982, and his next opportunity would come through the help of Edwards. "[Edwards] had hired Holmgren on the recommendation from Rowen," Reid explained. "In return, a year later, it was like a trade out. 'I did you a favor, now you have to take this young guy that has no experience and do me a favor and hire him.' "That's how I got to San Francisco State." Rowen and Edwards were both, at different times, presidents of the College Football Coaches Association. They were on the board together and had known each other forever. The opportunity for Reid at San Francisco State was about learning how to coach—Rowen had a knack for developing coaches. It was a teachers college and the athletes were non-scholarship, so there wasn't much pay and the coaches had to do a lot of different things to make ends meet. "Every Tuesday and Thursday, the coaches would sell hot dogs to earn money for the football program," Tammy recalled of that time. "Andrew would sell hot dogs in the middle of the commons, you know, out in the middle of campus." At the time they moved, Tammy and Andrew had one son, Garrett, but it wouldn't be long before another son, Britt, came into the picture. Their family would continue to grow with every new opportunity. "I'd put the boys in the wagon and we'd walk over to campus and get hot dogs," she recalled. That money went to the football department, so there was still the matter of their own money that had to be made to make ends meet. Reid was actually umpiring baseball games the night after Britt, his second son, was born. "He couldn't come visit me until he had umpired three games," Tammy recalled. "They always started after dinner so he would make $10 or $15 a game and he did that as much as he could. I remember the night after Britt was born, he came in his gear, wearing the dark navy pants, the light blue shirt, the little pouch with the brush to wipe off the plate, the clicker and he came to see me the next night. "I was just like, 'Oh, my poor husband.'" While money was scarce, that didn't stop Reid from having his offensive linemen over once a week to watch film and study. Each night they came over, Tammy would make Mississippi Mud Pie to feed them. "We were super poor," Tammy explained. "I can't even stress how much we did not have enough money to do this every week, but Andrew loved his guys and so I would have them over once a week and make it for them." He was only a few years older than the players he was coaching, but Reid felt like it was important to create a family atmosphere amongst his little faction of the team, so these weekly get-togethers were important to him. One of the guys at that weekly get-together was Tom Melvin, who was his only senior offensive lineman on that team. Melvin is now the tight ends coach for the Chiefs. Selling hot dogs, umpiring baseball games, in addition to being a coach—all of this was done because of his love for football. With a wife, two young sons and a plethora of responsibilities, Reid knew it was important to take advantage of the time he had with Rowen because of all the sacrifices they were making. "I've got this coach that's tougher than shoe leather, but he was a teacher of coaches," Reid noted. "He'd have a banana, an onion bagel and a glass of water, and this was at 6 in the morning. He'd go 'If you were presented this defense right here, give me the top three runs and the top three throws you would do.' "Then he had me explain to him how I would coach every player out there. He'd do this every day to me and just grill me. I was just out of college and he'd just grill me and grill me." This is how one of the greatest coaches in NFL history got indoctrinated in the coaching world. At the crack of dawn every morning, Rowen, who would develop three NFL head coaches during his time at San Francisco State in Reid, Holmgren and Dirk Koetter, would make Reid explain how he would coach the techniques to every player on the field for multiple plays against multiple defenses. Larry Kentera It's a process that worked, and while this may have been an early link in the chain of Reid's Xs-and-Os development, the next opportunity would be helped along by an old friend—a pattern we'd continue to see, but was only made feasible through a determination unlike anything his next coach had ever seen. "I knew LaVell Edwards really well," said Larry Kentera, the longtime defensive coordinator at Arizona State. At Arizona State, Kentera coached the likes of future NFL Hall of Famer and Kansas City Chiefs legend Curley Culp before eventually leaving for a head coaching position at Northern Arizona in 1985. After three years grinding out a life financially at San Francisco State, Reid learned of an opportunity with Kentera at Northern Arizona, and he asked his old coach and the guy who got him started in coaching, Edwards, to put in a good word for him. "[Edwards] gave [Reid] a high recommendation," said Kentera. Edwards made that call, but it wasn't going to suffice for Reid. He wanted this job. "I no sooner put the phone down with Lavell before it rings again," Kentera recalled. "Coach, this is Andy Reid. I want this job. I'm interested in this job." "I said, 'Andy, I'm in a hurry right now. I'm not going to do anything with the job until I get back from a recruiting trip. When I get back from Sacramento, I'll give you a call back.' What happened next is a reason Reid is where he is today. "When I get to Sacramento, guess who was there waiting for me when I got off the plane?" Kentera explained. "Andy Reid was standing right there." "He said, 'Coach, I want that job.'" Reid had found out what flight Kentera was on and made the two-hour drive from San Francisco to Sacramento to wait for him at the airport. Kentera had no choice after that. Reid was his guy, although he did follow up with Edwards again just to be sure about a guy that would go to that kind of length to get a job. It wasn't just coach Reid moving for a new opportunity. Tammy and their two sons would obviously be affected by this life on the move. "I'd never known a coach, I'd never been with a coach," she explained. "I had no idea what our lives were going to be like. I was just a roll-with-the-punches kind of girl and I'm a bloom-where-you're-planted kind of girl. So we'd move. I'd get everybody ready, I'd get the house ready, we'd sell the house, do whatever we needed to do, jump in the U-Haul, and we'd just move. "It was just a part of life. You were so young that you didn't even know that it was crazy, that what you were doing was crazy." Reid had actually left immediately to begin working in Flagstaff after he accepted the job, which meant it was Tammy's job to pack up the house and get everything their family owned to their new home in Arizona. The Northern Arizona University coaching staff. Luckily, she had help from one of Reid's former players at San Francisco State and a guy he had brought on as a graduate assistant, Tom Melvin. Melvin helped her pack the house and actually drove the U-Haul with all of their family's belongings to Arizona. Melvin is currently the tight ends' coach for the Chiefs. Reid would spend just one year at Northern Arizona, a school his brother, Reggie, attended for a short time, but that amount of time was long enough for Kentera to get an idea of the kind of coach and man Reid ultimately was. "We had finished our spring ball that year and so I took all of the guys on the bus, we went out to the country, took a lot of drinks and all," Kentera explained. "Once we got out there, Andy came over and sat by me and said, 'Coach, I don't drink.' "I said, 'That's okay. I don't care whether you drink or not.' "He said, 'You don't?' "I said, 'Nope.' "He said, 'You know I'm Mormon?' "I said, 'Sure, I know you are. I respect you because you don't drink.'" Reid's Mormon faith has been an integral part of his life since he was baptized on August 2, 1980, as a junior at BYU. It wouldn't be long before another opportunity came calling. Dirk Koetter had spent the 1985 season with Reid at San Francisco State as the offensive coordinator, and he had moved on to the University of Texas-El Paso when Reid had left for NAU. UTEP was an option for Reid at that time as well, but he wasn't interested. "I said it's a graveyard for coaches," Reid admitted. "I said that and so I went to Northern Arizona. I didn't even want to talk to them." Then he got a phone call from an old friend a year later. "I remember Dirk calling when we were in Flagstaff," Tammy recalled. "I remember getting the call and saying, 'Dirk, you better not be calling about another job. We haven't been here but one season.' "And he's like, 'Just let me talk to Andy, Tam.' Newspaper announcement of Andy Reid being hired at UTEP. "Sure enough, it was for a job, and that's why we only lived in Flagstaff for 11 months, 23 days. I don't know if I'll ever forget that call. I was like, 'Oh my gosh, we just bought a house. We're settled. We have kids. It's great here.' "But, you've got to move on." Reid said the difference for him on UTEP this time around was that Edwards, who was in the same conference as UTEP—the WAC, told him the new coach there, Bob Stull, was doing good things with the program. So Reid went to interview with UTEP, and after meeting with Stull, Koetter and company, was taken out to lunch by their young strength and conditioning coach, a guy by the name of Dave Toub. Koetter is currently the offensive coordinator for the Atlanta Falcons. Reid ultimately got the job and left a good situation at Northern Arizona, where he was working with Kentera, Melvin and an offensive coordinator named Brad Childress. Their paths would cross again. The new offensive line coach after Reid left was Bill Callahan, who is currently the offensive line coach for the Cleveland Browns. Within the few years after Reid left NAU, Marty Mornhinweg and Darrell Bevell would also be a part of the program. Mornhinweg was most recently the offensive coordinator with the Baltimore Ravens, while Bevell, who played at NAU in 1989, is the offensive coordinator for the Detroit Lions. It's an impressive group of coaches to have worked at NAU all around the same time. "I was just fortunate enough to get these guys together," Kentera explained. "They all went on to bigger things and all, and the reason they got to where they did was because they were that good." Reid would spend two years at UTEP working under Stull as their offensive line coach. During that time, Stull noticed how well Reid could manage his players—something that would be a common trait described of the former offensive lineman. UTEP coaching staff. "He had a way that you always knew he was on your side," Stull explained. "He'd get on you, but you knew you probably deserved it. He was never a yeller, a screamer or harsh like that, but he'd get on you pretty good if you weren't doing the right effort and learning what you're supposed to be learning. The offensive line guys really liked him a lot because, again, he was a great teacher. He wouldn't let you get away with anything. "He worked them hard, but he could also laugh. He could see something funny, they could make fun of him about something and he was all right with that. He had a really good sense about him like that." In two years at UTEP, team went a combined 17-7 and picked up their first 10-win season in 1988, a year that ended with an Independence Bowl loss to Southern Miss and their young playmaking quarterback—Brett Favre. But soon, the Reid family was on the move again after Stull accepted the head coaching position at the University of Missouri. The family had grown by one more while they were in El Paso as their first daughter, Crosby, was born. Koetter was actually offered the head coaching position at UTEP after Stull had accepted the job at Mizzou and wanted Reid to stay with him in Texas, but Koetter ultimately declined the job and they both ended up heading to Columbia with Stull. Reid would spend the next three years coaching the offensive line at Mizzou. Andy Reid while coaching at University of Missouri "It was an opportunity to coach in an awesome conference—the Big Eight," Reid explained. "You're talking about when Oklahoma and Nebraska were at their peak. Colorado was one of the best teams in the country." He was on the sidelines for the infamous "fifth-down" game, in which the University of Colorado and their star running back Eric Bieniemy would be given an extra down with just seconds remaining because of an official's mistake. The extra down gave the Buffaloes another chance to score, which they did. "Eric Bieniemy cheated," Reid laughingly said about the game. Bieniemy went on to finish third in the Heisman Trophy balloting that year. He's currently the offensive coordinator for the Chiefs. After three seasons in Columbia, Reid would once again get a call from an old friend about an opportunity. This time it brought back a conversation Tammy remembered having during a dinner they had years before when they were at BYU. "We went to dinner at Mike's and he asked Andy, 'If I ever get a head coaching job, would you want to come with me?' "And [Reid was] like, 'Sure!'" Well, it happened. Mike Holmgren had just been hired as the new head coach of the Green Bay Packers. "When I got the Packers job, I phoned Andy first," Holmgren recalled. "I said, 'You're going to be coaching tight ends. You're going from coaching 10 or 12 guys, down to coaching probably three.'" AP Mike Holmgren and Andy Reid during Green Bay Packers vs. Oakland Raiders on August 8, 1997. The NFL wasn't on Reid's radar at the time. While he had spent a lot of time during the offseason those years at Mizzou driving to Kansas City to talk with Howard Mudd, the offensive line coach with the Chiefs, it wasn't about finding a way to the NFL. It was about learning as much as he could to develop his guys back at Mizzou. "I never had that goal," Reid explained of the NFL. "I know people say that. You'd love to have that opportunity, but I was always big on breaking it down to the things I controlled and not worrying about the things I couldn't control. That's the way you're raised as a lineman I think. "So I figured if I worked hard and I kept my nose clean, good things would happen." Initially, Reid was skeptical about coaching tight ends. He had been coaching offensive line at the collegiate level for the past 10 years. "Well, look at it this way," said Holmgren to Reid. "You're going to be exposed for the first time to the passing game. And I think down the road, in fact, I know down the road, it's going to help you." For the first time in his life, the decision to move to another opportunity wasn't an easy one. In the previous 10 years, he and Tammy had already moved their family four times, but this time it was different. "This was a hard decision," Reid explained. "We were building something at Missouri, then you leave and you feel like [you're] divorcing the team. It was the first time I had felt that way. "When I was at UTEP and we moved to Missouri, there were a lot of seniors, so they were kind of moving on with us, but this was a different deal. None of the coaches were going with me." Their fourth child, another daughter, Drew-Ann, was born when they were in Columbia. At the time the Green Bay offer came along, Tammy was also six months pregnant with their fifth child and third son, Spencer. All these years coaching and the NFL had never been the goal. Then, all of the sudden, from selling hot dogs to driving to meet strangers in airports for coaching jobs, it had all come to this—Reid was now an NFL coach. He had reached the highest level of football in the world, and he was just getting started. CHAPTER FOUR “He just ate all of the saltine crackers.” In his first year as a head coach at any level, Holmgren, who had spent the previous six years with the San Francisco 49ers as quarterbacks coach (1986-88) and then offensive coordinator (1989-91), put together one of the best coaching staffs in NFL history. Mike Holmgren during his time in San Francisco. In 1992, the Packers had five future NFL head coaches on staff in Reid, Jon Gruden, Dick Jauron, Ray Rhodes and Steve Mariucci. They combined to win more than 550 games in the NFL. It was an exciting time for a group of young, talented coaches. "I love football and had a lot to prove," Gruden, who is now the head coach of the Las Vegas Raiders, explained of that time. "Andy had a lot of love for the game and a lot to prove, too. It was all so exciting being in the NFL at a young age, being with Mike Holmgren—the Green Bay Packers—having a chance to show we belonged." The talent and passion they had for the game manifested itself into numerous competitions between Gruden, Reid, Mariucci and company. "In our staff meetings, you could throw out ideas on the table, and if it was a good idea, I'd stick it in the game plan," Holmgren explained, "and so, what I didn't realize is they kept track of that. They'd go back and give a hard time to each other about that." Gruden remembers these times vividly. "It became a competition between us young guys to see who could come up with the next great play," he explained. "We wanted to impress Mike Holmgren. We wanted him to trust our research and to put that play in the game plan." "I was oblivious to it, which is kind of funny, actually," Holmgren said laughingly, "but that's one of the things that made the staff great because they were bright guys and they cared a lot." After five straight winning seasons and a Super Bowl championship in 1996, Holmgren was put to the test of how much he valued Reid being on his staff. In 1997, Mariucci was offered the head coaching position with the San Francisco 49ers, and he wanted Reid to be his offensive coordinator. "I said no," Holmgren noted. "I blocked it and said, 'Look, I need you. I can't let you go.'" At the time, the NFL allowed you to protect or stop one coach from leaving your staff. "Andy was upset about it and I don't blame him," Holmgren, who was receiving numerous calls at the time from everyone in San Francisco about letting Reid join them, recalled. Holmgren then made a promise to Reid that he'd help him get a head coaching position and that he'd be coaching the quarterbacks that next season in Green Bay. "I moved a really good offensive line coach to coach tight ends, then quarterbacks and Brett Favre, specifically," Holmgren noted. "That's quite a jump. That's not easy to do." Reid had initially made the move to tight ends to learn more about the passing game, and now he was coaching a player who would go on to become one of the greatest passers in NFL history. Much like Kentera, Stull and everyone had always said about him before, Reid had just the right temperament to be a good teacher—regardless of the position he was coaching. AP Andy Reid, Mike Holmgren and Brett Farve "Most of the time, Andy had a clear head and I was the emotional one," Holmgren noted. "He would have to get in the middle between me and Favre, and he would kind of take a bullet for him. Sometimes I'd lay it on Andy and I'd come down hard on him, but that was kind of the role of a quarterback coach. "Whether it was Mariucci or Reid, instead of going after the player, sometimes I would go after the coach, and the player would feel bad and then look out for him." It was the way Holmgren ran his ship, and with more than 170 career wins, it obviously worked. They were special relationships he had with his assistant coaches, but the one with Andy was always strong—dating back to their time together at BYU. "They were like sons to me," Holmgren, who has four daughters, said, "but Andy, I don't know, we just hit it off. It was just a friendship. I was his boss, but I hope he would say it was a friendship—that's the way I wanted it to be." It's not hard to see the resemblance between the two either. "We're both big guys," Holmgren laughed. "We both have mustaches. Every once in a while, somebody will come up and mistake me for Andy in the airport, or they would do the same thing and come up and ask him for an autograph thinking it was me. "So Andy once told me, sometimes [if things were going well], I'd just sign your name." Obviously, this was a friendship Reid cherished as well. "He told me that everything that I've ever said he has written down," Holmgren said. "He had taken notes on everything I've ever said. When I worked for Bill Walsh, I took very, very clear notes, but Andy I think took it to the next level." Those notes, along with all the others he had taken dating back to his days at San Francisco State, put him in position to be ready for a head coaching position when one might eventually become available, something Holmgren had already said he'd helped Reid with when the day came. After the 1998 season, Holmgren interviewed with the Seattle Seahawks for a position that, in addition to being their head coach, would include more responsibility on the personnel side. "When I interviewed for the Seattle job, I was also going to come back and interview with the Eagles," Holmgren explained. "I phoned (Eagles owner) Jeffery Lurie and said listen, I'm scheduled for the interview, but I'm staying in Seattle, I'm sorry, thank you for everything. "But here's who you have to hire—you have to hire Andy Reid." Lurie listened, and for the first time in 10 years, an NFL head coach was hired after working as a positional coach, not a coordinator. Over the next 14 years, under Reid's watch, the Eagles went to the playoffs nine times, won six division titles and travelled to five NFC Championship games and one Super Bowl. Doug Pederson, who had spent the previous three years with Holmgren and Reid in Green Bay as a backup to Favre, had the opportunity to play for both in 1999. Holmgren had a place for him in Seattle and Reid had one in Philadelphia. Pederson ultimately chose Philadelphia, and he'd learn under Reid, both as a player and later as a coach for eight years, before getting his big opportunity after the 2015 season, serendipitously, in Philadelphia as their new head coach. "He always kept those spiral notebooks," Pederson noted of Reid. "It's something I learned to do, document your history. He just had volumes of that stuff going back to his early days in coaching. If it's a scheduling issue, like around Thanksgiving or Christmas, he'll look back at what they did three or four years ago in a similar situation and know what to do." These notes also included practice schedules, Super Bowl itineraries, bye-week schedules and draft philosophies. He was meticulously organized. "When you think of him, [you think of] consistency, reliability, hard work and a genuine care about the details," Gruden noted. "You know, as a player, as a secretary, as an offensive coordinator—how we're going to set this drill up. Just meticulous detail and maniacal preparation, along with genuine heart. If you did a bad job, he knew how to deal with you and say the right thing. "That goes right back to those days at Green Bay, being in there at 3:30 in the morning. He just ate all of the saltine crackers." CHAPTER FIVE “He had a clear vision for how he liked to operate” After 14 years in Philadelphia and just three losing seasons, Reid was fired by the Eagles on Monday, December 31, 2012. It was the first time in his 30 years of coaching that he had been fired from a job. Just two days later, the Chiefs, who had just moved on from their head coach, Romeo Crennel, on that Monday as well, made it their mission to bring Reid to Kansas City. They flew to Philadelphia Tuesday night and scheduled an interview with Reid that was to last three to four hours on Wednesday at the airport in Philadelphia. "Not only did Clark [Hunt] come, but he brought everybody with him," Reid recalled of that interview. "It was like the whole front office of the Kansas City Chiefs parked in this private plane area meeting room they had set up. So I got to meet everybody." Reid recalled his first impression of Hunt at that meeting. "He was very aggressive," Reid recalled. "He wanted to find out first if I still wanted to coach. Once he found that out and felt comfortable, he made sure that we covered every base." The Reid family had been through a lot over the previous year, and after 30 years of grinding it out day after day, there was an obvious question as to whether or not he was going to want to take some time to step back and breathe. "What stood out to me right away was his energy and passion for coaching," Hunt recalled. "I thought he might be ready to take a break, but I could tell from the start that he was ready to go, and we clicked almost immediately. "I could tell in the interview that he had a clear vision for how he liked to operate, and I think that comes from experience, obviously, but I also think that's just his personality. He communicates very well, is highly intelligent and an excellent teacher." What was supposed to be a three to four-hour interview all of the sudden turned into a nine-hour conversation, which put Tammy, who was waiting at home, in a strange position when a limo showed up to take Reid to the airport to fly out for an interview with another team. "I'm sitting there and all of a sudden I look out the door and there's a limo driver," Tammy recalled. "I walk out there and I go, 'What are you doing?' "He said, 'I'm here to pick up Andy Reid.' "This is hours after he left, so I'm calling him, texting him and I'm getting nothing. I didn't know what to do so I called (his agent) Bob LaMonte, and Bob said, 'He's not going on that interview. Tell the guy to just go.' "I said, 'Really?' And he goes, 'Yeah.'" Reid came home from the interview and talked everything over with Tammy, and ultimately, they decided that Kansas City was the right place for them. It's a decision that has profoundly affected the Chiefs franchise. Reid was announced as the new head coach of the Chiefs on January 4, 2013. Andy Reid signs his contract with the Chiefs. In the seven years that Reid has guided the franchise, the Chiefs have put together seven-straight winning seasons, four-consecutive AFC West titles, six playoff berths with back-to-back home AFC title games with one championship, and it culminates with a Super Bowl appearance on February 2, 2020. For Reid, the ability to have made this transformation started with the leadership at the top. "I love the Hunts, the entire family and the way they go about their business," Reid said. "I love Clark's leadership ability. He had big shoes to fill and I think he's progressed and taken this to another level in today's National Football League. "He's a brilliant person. He's got a great mind and he's going to shoot you straight." In the six years before Reid arrived in Kansas City, the Chiefs had won a total of 29 regular season games. In his first three years leading the franchise—half of that time—Reid led the Chiefs to 31 wins. The turnaround was quick, consistent, and has risen to a level over the past two seasons that the franchise has never seen before. Before Patrick Mahomes paired up with Andy Reid and joined the Chiefs as the 10th overall pick in the 2017 NFL Draft, the organization had never hosted an AFC title game, or had a league MVP. Now, they have the league's reigning MVP, hosted back-to-back AFC title games in Mahomes' first two season as a starter, and the Chiefs will represent the AFC in the Super Bowl for the first time in 50 years. According to those who have been around both of these guys since Mahomes first arrived, the relationship between them was obvious from the beginning. Prior to Mahomes' first career start in Week 17 against the Denver Broncos back in 2018, Chiefs' offensive coordinator Eric Bieniemy remembers a conversation he had with Reid following their Friday game plan meeting that week. "[Reid] came to me after he met with [Mahomes] and said, 'We're going to win this game," Bieniemy recalled. "It was just special from the beginning. He was different." Mahomes demonstrated confidence in the game plan and didn't blink in his first start—leading the Chiefs to a game-winning scoring drive in the last few minutes on the road in a divisional game. It was a sign of things to come, and that relationship has only progressed in the follow-up campaign to his MVP season, where he became just the second quarterback in NFL history with 5,000 yards and 50 touchdowns in a single season, and he happened to do it at 23 years old in his first season as a starter. Chiefs' backup quarterback Matt Moore, who joined the team after training camp but ended up making a few key starts for the Chiefs with Mahomes missing time with a knee injury in the middle of the season, recalls one instance soon after he arrived in which he saw how the head coach and quarterback were on the same wave length. "We were sitting in a meeting room and coach Reid was talking about a "read" and where the [receivers] were, and they were in a triangle formation, and literally at the same time as coach said, 'there's a nice little triangle here,' there was a pause, and then at the same exact time [Mahomes and coach Reid] both said, "isosceles," Moore laughed. "And I was like, 'What the he**, I mean, it blew me away. There was no story behind it. There was nothing for them to both think of that word at the same time. It was so strange. "At that moment, I knew these guys were tight." The success over the last two years with those two is the best stretch in the past 50 years of the Chiefs' franchise. It has changed expectations and helped fortify one legacy while creating another. At home, Reid had the unwavering support of Tammy, who had learned long ago while sitting with her boyfriend's parents at the Holiday Bowl in San Diego, to never doubt that a comeback is possible, regardless of how bleak it might look. "Maybe people don't know this about me but I'm a very positive person and I have the ultimate trust in Andrew as a coach," she mentioned. "We've been through 38 years of coaching and so I never don't think we're going to win." The unflappable and even-tempered coach did figure out a way, and in doing so, received the praise of an old friend and mentor for what he was able to help achieve. "I just told him how proud I was of him and what he's done," Holmgren said of reaching out to Reid via text after one season, "and that extends to when I was still coaching too. We would play a game against his team and I'd look across the field, and of course we're in a battle that day and we're competing like crazy against each other. "But also, I just had a great sense of pride about the guys that worked with me and how good they were." Reid's 213 career wins as a head coach put him at No. 6 on the NFL's all-time list. CHAPTER SIX “He never forgot where he came from” It's been a life of football. "I owe a lot to the sport," Reid explained. "How many guys get to start playing football when they're 5 years old and then continue that as a profession now when they're 61 years old? It's crazy to think about that and all the people I've had the opportunity and privilege to meet in between. "I've been so lucky all the way through this whole deal." While much of what Reid gets credit for on the outside is explained through a final standings sheet or a box score on a Monday morning, the things he's done for his players and his staff off the field and the respect they have for him can't ever be quantified. It's something that goes beyond the field and something that's real. Eric Berry's now-famous "Fear nothing, attack everything" slogan was something Reid had said, and it became the rallying cry for one of the best stories in sports in recent years. Chiefs fan holds "Fear Nothing, Attack Everything" sign The things he's done for his staff members, going out of his way to help them in different matters, might never make headlines or see the light of day, but will be remembered forever by those he helped because of his sincerity in helping them for the right reasons. It's a side of him that most will never know, and it's how he'll be remembered by those who _do_ know Reid the person, not just the guy who stands in front of the cameras and answers questions about football. There's a depth and genuineness there that only those who have known him the longest can truly appreciate. They know where he came from, how hard he worked, how he treated those before he was Andy Reid, the NFL coach, and how he still values those relationships to this day. He is the man he is today because of the people he looked up to as a kid, and outside of his parents and older brother, those were his coaches. "I had great high school coaches," Reid explained. "They were phenomenal and they cared about the kids like no other. Now that I've raised kids and I've been around more, I see this because I thought it was this way for everybody, and it's not. "I still talk to my basketball coach, my football coaches—I talk to all these guys from high school. Half of them raised me; half of them were in my brother's class. They saw me as a baby." Maintaining those relationships keeps him grounded and allows him to never lose sight of how he got to where he is today. "One of the things we've always said about Andy that is so hard to find, is that Andy never forgot where he came from," Kiwan, who has known Reid longer than most, said. "He maintains his relationships with the guys he played with in high school and even his old coaches. "It's something that you just don't find with someone in his position. You just don't find that." His position is one of the best coaches in the league right now, and when it's all said and done, NFL history. Currently, only five head coaches have ever stood on an NFL sideline and shook hands victoriously more after a game than Reid. He's already in rare company, but it's the way he's done it that has earned him respect across the league among his peers. A few years ago, Reid made his way back to John Marshall High School as he was inducted into their Hall of Fame. In the trophy case, there is the Andy Reid Trophy, given to the school's best offensive lineman each year. That school is part of his foundation—a building block of the man he is today. The field at John Marshall High School was a stone's throw away from his house, and it didn't take much convincing for Reid and his friends to hop that 15-foot fence and to play on what used to be a mostly dirt field (before they became sophomores and played on it for real). Now, his kids don't have to hop a fence to find a field to help lay their own foundations. His son, Britt, who was born in San Francisco when Reid was out selling hot dogs to make ends meet, works as an assistant coach for the Chiefs. Timothy P. Riethmiller Britt Reid "I think that it's awesome that he has an opportunity to learn from great coaches," Reid said of Britt. "Tommy Brasher, Bob Sutton, Gary (Gibbs), Emmitt (Thomas), and Steve Spagnuolo, these are coaches that have been around the profession, so for a young guy getting into coaching, what great examples here that he's been lucky enough to be surrounded by." Reid's other son, Spencer, was able to be with his dad on the sideline for some of these playoff wins. "Just to see your husband next to your sons, it's awesome," Tammy said. "All the pictures we have of them hugging after games, just to know that they're with their dad and that they get to share this joy together. It's emotional." For Tammy, the life of a coach's wife isn't easy, but it's one that she has loved since her husband accepted that first job in San Francisco. "I'm the head coach of our family," she explained. "Even though he is the patriarch and does all these great things for our family, I kind of run everything when he's not around. I let him know where he's needed and what's going on with the kids. "I also try and take care of him." After seven stops in this journey, from the West Coast to the Midwest to the East Coast and back, the Reids have enjoyed the last seven years in Kansas City. "We love it here," she explained. "The people are so nice and kind and happy and respectful. I just love the values and the morals of the Midwest. Andrew isn't able to be out in the community like I am because he's working so much, but I'm just out in the grocery store having a great time talking to people in line." It's a balance they have figured out together. "It's not just the time he spends working," Tammy explained of what drives her husband. "It's how much he cares about his players and the team and doing everything in his power to help them be successful." The man known for his work ethic, sincerity and staying true to his roots, often seen in Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirts, has proven that in a cutthroat business like the NFL, relationships and how you treat people ultimately matters. "I love the fact that of all the coaching jobs that I ever had, I'm talking from college to the NFL, I've been able to spend more time with my family coaching for him than anyone I've ever worked for," former assistant coach, David Culley, said of Reid. "It's important to him." The only thing that would ever trump his love for football is the love for family, and that extends to those he works with. "He's a very Christian-type man and he cares about people," Holmgren said. "If you've bumped into him somewhere along the way, or created a friendship with him, it stays forever." As Reid prepares for his second Super Bowl appearance in 22 years as a NFL head coach—a time in which it would be justified for him to make any kind of mention about his own longevity and success—unsurprisingly to anyone who has ever crossed paths with him, he still makes it about everyone else. "It's about all of them," Reid said of the coaches who have helped him along the way, and how they are part of his journey and success. "Every one of them. You take a little bit from everyone and you put your twist on it. They all helped. That's what it's all about." That's saying something for a man who has paid it forward by helping 10 former assistants become NFL head coaches at some point in their careers, including five current coaches around the league in the Bears' Matt Nagy, the Redskins' Ron Rivera, the Ravens' John Harbaugh, the Eagles' Doug Pederson and the Bills' Sean McDermott. And there's a strong sentiment around the league that people, including all those who have worked for him before, are rooting for Reid in the Super Bowl. "It's humbling," Reid said. "But they know how I'm wired. You've got to stay focused. I appreciate it all and people have reached out, it's great, but they know I'm narrow-minded on getting ready for this game." That's how you win 221 career games, but it's No. 222 that could be the most special of all.

Trigger warning. If u are triggered by chiefs history, don't read this. Also grow a pair. Otherwise this about sums it up. https://www.theringer.com/nfl-playoffs/2020/1/28/21107891/kansas-city-chiefs-fandom-super-bowl-breakthrough The Forever Cycle of Chiefs Fandom Has Been Broken Kansas City is about to play in the Super Bowl for the first time in 50 years. This is more than just a breakthrough for a long-suffering franchise. It’s the culmination of a journey that defines an entire fan base. By Rany Jazayerli Jan 28, 2020, 8:58am EST Getty Images/Ringer illustration Share this story Share this on Facebook (opens in new window) Share this on Twitter (opens in new window) SHAREAll sharing options IIam 15 years old, and the Kansas City Chiefs have been terrible my entire life. Growing up as a little boy in Wichita, Kansas, I had heard of the team’s glorious past in the AFL, the league founded by Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt. The league was born in 1960, and Hunt’s franchise played as the Dallas Texans for three seasons, winning the AFL championship in 1962 before moving to Kansas City and continuing to find success. The Chiefs played in (and lost) the very first Super Bowl in 1967, and three years later won Super Bowl IV, right after it stopped being known as the AFL-NFL World Championship Game. The two leagues officially merged after that, though, and the Chiefs hadn’t won a title since. They lost a double-overtime playoff game on Christmas Day 1971—still the longest NFL game ever played—and in the ensuing 18 years had played in (and lost) just one postseason game. So I did what most teenage boys do when confronted with a local sports team that doesn’t win: I ignored it. I gravitated to the Royals instead, because now there was a franchise with a long legacy of success. But in 1990, the Chiefs are not terrible. They have a new head coach, Marty Schottenheimer, and a new identity, built on stout defenders in Derrick Thomas and Neil Smith, a bruising running back in Christian Okoye, and a workmanlike quarterback who stays within himself in Steve DeBerg. Some of the names will change, but this is the basic formula the Chiefs will use throughout the decade. And this team is good—good enough that my brother Roukan and I become devoted fans by season’s end. The Chiefs go 11-5, qualify for the playoffs, and take a 16-3 lead on Dan Marino and the Miami Dolphins in the wild-card round. But the Dolphins have Dan Marino. He throws two fourth-quarter touchdowns and the Chiefs miss a long field goal at the end, losing 17-16. I am disappointed, but also hooked. Those hooks haven’t left me yet. I am 16 years old, and the 1991 Chiefs are 10-6 and back in the playoffs. This time they host the archrival Raiders in the wild-card round, and win a 10-6 game that’s MartyBall distilled to its purest form: Both teams combine for just 229 passing yards. I can’t say this is my favorite form of football—the proto analyst in me is already convinced that an aggressive passing offense is the most efficient way to score points—but to quote Walter Sobchak, at least it’s an ethos. The Buffalo Bills destroy the Chiefs 37-14 the following week, but the season nonetheless feels like progress. I am 17 years old, and the 1992 Chiefs are 10-6 again. They’ve replaced veteran game manager DeBerg with veteran game manager Dave Krieg, and their offense goes silent in the playoffs, a 17-0 whitewash in San Diego. The any given Sunday mantra seems to be colliding with the need to score points to win a playoff game. I feel like the Chiefs need to show a sense of urgency. RELATED How a Fullback Became the Key to Unlocking the 49ers Offense How John Lynch Moved From the Broadcast Booth to the Front Office The Chiefs Have No Balance on Offense—and They Don’t Need It The X Factors Who Could Decide Super Bowl LIV I am 18 years old, a college junior, and the 1993 Chiefs have shown a sense of urgency. They’ve traded away a first-round draft pick to acquire the greatest veteran game manager of them all: Joe Montana, who is 37 and has missed most of the last two seasons with injury, but is still, now and always, Joe Cool. He is everything we could have expected. The Chiefs go 11-5, win the AFC West, and host a wild-card game against the Pittsburgh Steelers. I watch from my basement apartment on a 24-inch TV as the Chiefs trail late, until Montana ties the game by finding Tim Barnett in the end zone on a fourth-and-goal with the season hanging in the balance. The Chiefs win on an overtime field goal. The next week I am in Chicago for a Strat-O-Matic baseball tournament, and convince my partner to play our games in my hotel room so I can watch the Chiefs take on the Houston Oilers. The Chiefs trail 10-0 at halftime, and I am panicking. My opponent consoles me. “What are you worried about?” he asks. “You have Joe Montana. You’ll be fine.” Montana throws for three touchdowns in the second half, and the Chiefs win 28-20. It won’t be the last time a team from Kansas City comes back in dramatic fashion against a team from Houston. The Chiefs are in the AFC championship game for the first time in my life, on the road against the Bills, who have won each of the last three conference titles. I am on a college-sponsored ski trip to Vermont, and I leave the slopes early for the local sports bar, place an order for unlimited buffalo wings, and sit down to watch the game. Montana gets knocked out by a concussion, Thurman Thomas runs for 186 yards, and the Bills rout the Chiefs 30-13. It is a disappointment, but the thing about being 18 is that neither the game nor the 60 wings I housed leave me with heartburn. I have my whole adult life ahead of me, and it feels like the Chiefs are beginning something. It turns out they are beginning something: a playoff losing streak that will stretch for eight games—the longest in NFL history to that point—and 22 years. Joe Montana Joseph Patronite/Getty Images IIam 19 years old, and the Chiefs have taken a step back. The 1994 team goes 9-7 to eke out a spot in the wild-card round against the Dolphins. Montana is 38 and showing his age; Marino is 33 and in his prime. The Dolphins win going away, 27-17. I am 20 years old, a first-year medical student, and the 1995 Chiefs are my only refuge. Medical school isn’t for the faint of heart, nor for the weakly committed, nor for anyone who isn’t willing to put most of their happiness on hold for four years. But once a week, the Chiefs are my outlet for joy. They go 13-3, their best record since winning Super Bowl IV. Montana has retired, but the team has a new retread 49ers quarterback named Steve Bono, and more importantly, the best defense in the NFL, one that holds opponents to just 15 points per game. The Chiefs have a bye and home-field advantage throughout the playoffs, and their first opponent is the Indianapolis Colts, who went 9-7. It is the end of winter break, and my brother visits me in Ann Arbor, Michigan, before heading back to college. On January 7, 1996, we sit in my one-bedroom apartment in front of that 24-inch TV to witness a formality. Instead, we are witnesses to a calamity. The Chiefs defense holds Indianapolis to just 10 points, but Kansas City can’t move the ball, and when it does, its field goal kicker can’t convert. Lin Elliott—the years have dulled the pain of writing his name, but only barely—misses from 35 yards. He misses from 39 yards. And on the last meaningful play of the game, with the Chiefs down 10-7, he misses from 42 yards. We sit in stunned silence, unable to move or even contemplate what just happened. The following morning, I trudge to Taubman Library to begin a cold, gray semester. My life as a sports fan is permanently cleaved into B.E. and A.E.: Before Elliott, when I was filled with the naive innocence that sports were joyful and fun, and After Elliott, when I knew better. I am 22 years old, and in the two years since the Chiefs’ last playoff game I have courted and married my wife. She is wholly unprepared for my Sunday rituals and devotion to this football team, particularly since the 1997 Chiefs are great—maybe even better than the 1995 Chiefs. They go 13-3 again, secure the AFC’s no. 1 seed again, and score more points (375 to 358) and allow fewer (232 to 241) than the 1995 team did. During the season they beat the hated Denver Broncos when new kicker Pete Stoyanovich drills a last-second 54-yard field goal, giving the Chiefs a first-round bye and forcing the 12-4 Broncos to come to Kansas City as a no. 4 seed. My new bride banishes me to the bedroom to watch the game on that same damn 24-inch TV. This time, there is no one scapegoat; there are many. The referees, for calling Tony Gonzalez out of bounds on a catch, when he was clearly in. The league’s owners, for abolishing instant replay a few years earlier, meaning that the play couldn’t be reviewed. Stoyanovich, cruelly, who nailed a field goal only to have a holding penalty called against Kansas City, necessitating a repeat attempt from 10 yards back—which doinks off the left upright. Schottenheimer, who calls for a fake field goal attempt with the Chiefs down four points late; it is stuffed, meaning the Chiefs are still down four in the waning minutes instead of just one. New quarterback Elvis Grbac—you’ll never believe this, but he is also a former 49er—who isn’t up to the challenge of leading the two-minute drill, with his final drive ending 20 yards short. John Elway and the Broncos win 14-10. Three weeks later, they go on to win their first Super Bowl. They win another the following year, securing Elway’s legacy as one of the game’s all-time greats. This time, the pain of seeing a Super Bowl–caliber Chiefs team get depantsed by fate is compounded by seeing our biggest rivals use us as leverage to propel them to a mini dynasty. I am 24 years old, in the midst of my medical internship, too busy to keep tabs on the Chiefs as much as I would like. Still, they enter the final week of the 1999 regular season 9-6 and needing just a home victory against the Raiders—a team they had beaten at home 11 straight times—to clinch a playoff spot. I drive over to the local Champps and slow-roll my meal so I can watch the entire game with the sound off. The Chiefs take a 17-0 lead but fall behind 28-24 by halftime. The game is tied 38-38 when Stoyanovich sets up for a field goal as time expires to win the game. He misses. Jon Baker then sends the overtime kickoff out of bounds, setting up an easy Raiders field goal to end the season. That’s not the part that haunts me. The part that haunts me comes three weeks later, when Derrick Thomas—who is driving to the airport to watch the Rams in the playoffs because he doesn’t have a playoff game of his own—spins off an icy road, hits the median, and flips over several times. He isn’t wearing his seat belt, and is thrown from the car. The spinal cord injury ends the career of arguably the greatest Chiefs defensive player ever in an instant. A few weeks after that, he dies of a massive blood clot. I am 28 years old, having settled in the Chicago suburbs for good, newly minted as both a board-certified dermatologist and as a father, and the 2003 Chiefs are back in the playoffs for the first time in six years. They have a new identity now; the suffocating defense of MartyBall has been replaced by head coach Dick Vermeil’s high-flying offense, and the Chiefs score a then-franchise-record 484 points. Priest Holmes rushes for 27 touchdowns to set the single-season NFL record; Gonzalez is in his prime; Dante Hall is the X factor; and Trent Green, flanked by the best offensive line I have ever seen, is one of the game’s most productive quarterbacks. None of those guys play defense, though. The Chiefs go 13-3 again, get a first-round bye again, and face the Colts again. Only these aren’t the plucky 9-7-and-led-by–Jim Harbaugh Colts. These are the Peyton Manning Colts, and Peyton Manning is terrifying even when your defense is good. The Chiefs defense isn’t good. The Chiefs don’t punt during the entire game, but neither do the Colts. The difference is that Holmes fumbles at the end of a long run, and the Chiefs’ new kicker—the legendary Morten Andersen—misses an easy field goal just because. Indy wins 38-31. Defensive coordinator Greg Robinson is let go two days after the game. It is too late. Three times in the span of nine years, the Chiefs go 13-3 and earn a first-round bye, needing just a single home playoff win to advance to the AFC title game. In those three years—1995, 1997, and 2003—the Chiefs go 24-0 at home during the regular season, and 0-3 at home in the playoffs. When you pursue a career as a doctor, you essentially volunteer to sacrifice your entire 20s. At least I agreed to that. I didn’t agree to go through my 20s without seeing my favorite team win a single playoff game, in baseball or football. Tony Gonzalez Albert Dickson/Sporting News via Getty Images IIam 31 years old, a father of two daughters, a homeowner, and a small-business owner, and the 2006 Chiefs sneak into the playoffs. They head into the final day of the regular season with only one path to the wild-card round: They need to beat the Jaguars; the Steelers need to beat the Bengals; the Patriots (who have already locked in their playoff seed) need to beat the Titans; and the 49ers need to beat the Broncos. And three of those four wins have to come on the road. Incredibly, the Chiefs hit the exacta perfectly, and it says something about the plight of Kansas City sports fandom that a 9-7 team lucking into the AFC’s no. 6 seed was the happiest sporting day of my life to that point. The next weekend I watch from home as the Chiefs take on the Colts yet again, a mismatch every bit as lopsided as the game the Chiefs lost 11 years earlier. This time there is no upset, however. The Colts dispatch the Chiefs with quiet efficiency, 23-8. I am 35 years old, a father of three daughters, completely bald and settled into domestic life, and the 2010 Chiefs make the playoffs, albeit without any real enthusiasm. The miracle playoff berth of head coach Herm Edwards’s debut season was followed by a 4-12 campaign, the Chiefs’ worst record since I had become a fan, which was followed by an even worse 2-14 effort. Owner Clark Hunt brought in one of the supposed architects of the Patriots’ run of greatness, Scott Pioli, to turn things around, and the new general manager had traded for ex–New England quarterback Matt Cassel to help the 2010 Chiefs go 10-6 and win the AFC West. By now, I have convinced my brother—himself a doctor by this point—to move to Chicago, and we watch the wild-card game against the Baltimore Ravens in the home theater in his new house. Running back Jamaal Charles breaks loose for a 41-yard touchdown in the first quarter to give the Chiefs a 7-3 lead, but the Ravens score the game’s remaining 27 points, with Cassel throwing for just 70 yards and three interceptions. I am 38 years old, a father of four daughters, watching my youth disappear, and the 2013 Chiefs are a delightful return to normalcy. The Pioli era crashed and burned with the 2012 season, a 2-14 atrocity that marked the only time I have ever openly rooted against the Chiefs in order for Hunt to finally clean house. He does so, and hands the keys to Andy Reid, who seems like a perfect hire in the moment and who looks only better with time. Given the enormity of the cleanup before him, it would’ve been understandable if Reid had taken a year or two to bring the Chiefs back to mediocrity. But with new quarterback Alex Smith—who, yes, was acquired from the 49ers—and a soft schedule, the Chiefs start 9-0 en route to an 11-5 record and a wild-card berth. I am visiting my in-laws in Florida when the Chiefs take on the Colts for the fourth time in their last six playoff games. The Chiefs storm out to a 38-10 lead shortly after halftime, and Smith—Alex Smith!—is a one-man wrecking crew, throwing for 378 yards with four touchdowns and adding another 57 yards on the ground. But Jamaal Charles goes down with a concussion on Kansas City’s opening drive, which ends his night. The Colts close the gap to within 10 points by the end of the third quarter. And then, with under 11 minutes remaining, Colts running back Donald Brown fumbles on a second-and-goal … and Andrew Luck is somehow there to not only scoop up the ball, but also to run it in for a touchdown. The Chiefs still lead by three, but the ending feels preordained. I had seen this movie too many times to not know how it ends. Luck throws a 64-yard touchdown to T.Y. Hilton with 4:29 remaining to give the Colts a 45-44 lead. Smith leads the Chiefs down the field in the waning minutes, but the drive stalls at the Colts’ 43-yard line before a turnover on downs. It is the second-largest playoff collapse in NFL history. Some still call this the worst playoff loss in Chiefs history, but I wouldn’t even rank it among the top three. When you’ve experienced them in chronological order, you’ve been conditioned to expect the worst. I slept fine that night. I figured we would have just lost the next week anyway. Alex Smith Rob Carr/Getty Images IIam 40 years old, rushing headlong into middle age, and the 2015 Chiefs are back in the playoffs behind Reid and Smith. They’re 11-5 and a wild-card team, and they’re playing in Houston, the same city in which the franchise last won a playoff game 22 years earlier. I watch from my brother’s home theater as the Chiefs not only win, but make winning look easy, smothering quarterback Brian Hoyer and the Texans in a 30-0 triumph. It is almost enough to make you think a new era of football has dawned in Kansas City. But the next week we watch in the same place as the Chiefs travel to New England and lose 27-20 after giving as credible a showing as they could. I am 41 years old, old enough that the Circle of Life has now completed a full orbit and my daughters are rooting for the Chiefs with me, and the 2016 Chiefs are fully back. They go 12-4, winning the AFC West for just the third time this century and clinching a first-round bye. In the divisional round they host the Steelers, and I watch from my parents’ condo in Florida as the Chiefs keep the Steelers out of the end zone for the entire game. But Pittsburgh kicks six field goals, and the Chiefs trail 18-10 with less than three minutes remaining when they score a touchdown and set up for a pivotal two-point conversion. Smith’s pass is complete and the game appears tied, but an offensive holding call moves the ball back 10 yards, a backbreaker when you have one chance to score and 12 yards to go. Smith can’t find the end zone again, and the Chiefs lose 18-16. I am 42 years old, and nearing my wit’s end. The 2017 Chiefs go 10-6 and win the AFC West for the second consecutive year. They host the Tennessee Titans in the wild-card round, so it’s back to my brother’s house to watch as the Chiefs take a 21-3 halftime lead. (The Titans score those three points only after the refs inexplicably call quarterback Marcus Mariota down by forward progress when he is strip-sacked by Derrick Johnson, overturning an obvious fumble.) On the opening drive of the second half, the Titans have the ball on a third-and-goal when Mariota scrambles, throws a pass that is batted down by the Kansas City defense, and then sees the ball ricochet perfectly into his hands. Mariota dives for the pylon to score a touchdown. The Chiefs still lead 21-10, but there isn’t a Chiefs fan alive who is optimistic about how the game will end. Sure enough, two touchdowns later, the Titans are ahead 22-21. Smith valiantly marches the Chiefs down the field in the waning minutes, but the drive stalls at the Titans’ 44-yard line. Only twice in franchise history had the Chiefs lost a game they had led by more than 18 points; incredibly, one of those was their playoff game against the Colts just four years earlier. Watching with us that afternoon was my brother’s 6-year-old son, Adam, who had been indoctrinated into this cult by his father and was as infatuated with the Chiefs as the two of us. In the waning moments of the game, as it became clear that a last-minute Chiefs comeback wasn’t happening, Adam vomited all over the carpeted floor. The Chiefs had already destroyed my brother and me. Now, the bastards were coming for our children. If it’s darkest before the dawn, well, this was the darkest it’s been for me. As I got up to leave, I issued an ultimatum to my brother. “You better be right about Patrick Mahomes,” I said, referencing the rookie backup quarterback my brother had fallen in love with before the draft, “because right now he’s the only thing that’s keeping me from giving up on the Chiefs entirely.” It turns out he was right. And I never had to give up on the Chiefs. Chiefs fan Scott Winters/Icon Sportswire via Getty Images IIam 43 years old, and turning over a new leaf. Patrick Mahomes is a comet, can’t-miss television every Sunday, and the NFL MVP. The 2018 Chiefs go 12-4 and earn the AFC’s no. 1 seed for the first time in 21 years, and naturally that means they get to host the Colts in the divisional round. I watch from home, as my brother chooses to fly to Kansas City to take Adam to their first playoff game together. A quarter-century of demons proves no match for The Quarterback That Was Promised. The Chiefs race to a 17-0 start and never lead by fewer than 10 points the rest of the way. For a change, it’s the other team that misses the chip-shot field goal, as Adam Vinatieri—the greatest kicker in football history—shanks a 23-yarder before halftime. The next week is the AFC championship game, the first one hosted in Kansas City in almost 50 years. Every Chiefs fan I know is invited to my brother’s house to watch. Bill Belichick’s Patriots hold Mahomes scoreless in the first half, but Mahomes explodes for three touchdown passes after the break. When Damien Williams runs into the end zone with 2:03 remaining, the Chiefs go ahead 28-24. With 61 seconds left, Tom Brady’s pass deflects off Rob Gronkowski’s hands and into the waiting arms of cornerback Charvarius Ward, and for five glorious seconds the room erupts because the Chiefs are going to the Super Bowl. And then we see the flag. Dee Ford set up offside. New England still has possession. Given another chance, the Pats score the go-ahead touchdown two plays later. Mahomes moves the Chiefs 48 yards on two plays to set up the game-tying field goal. But the Patriots win the overtime coin toss, Mahomes never touches the ball again, and Rex Burkhead runs for the game-ending touchdown. In the aftermath of the game, though, as we’re saying our goodbyes, there’s a different vibe in the air. The message is Let’s do this again next year, and by “this,” we mean “watch the Chiefs play in the AFC championship game.” Mahomes has changed everything. Mahomes was the missing piece. The Chiefs have had great head coaches before, and great teams before, but they never had a great quarterback in his prime. Now they do. Now anything seems possible. Patrick Mahomes Peter G. Aiken/Getty Images IIam 44 years old, and thankful for the journey. I am thankful that Mahomes is simply walking under his own power, that his season didn’t end with a terrifying dislocated kneecap in Denver in Week 7. The 2019 Chiefs are 12-4 again, and after long appearing destined for a no. 3 seed and a date in the wild-card round, they move into the no. 2 spot after the Dolphins pull a shocking upset of the Patriots in Week 17. Suddenly, it’s the Chiefs who get the bye and a home game in the divisional round; it’s the Patriots who have to host the resurgent Titans. I watch the divisional game from my home office, too nervous to be with my brother and his now-8-year-old Chiefs-obsessed son. The Titans have beaten the Patriots, and the night before the Chiefs host the Texans, the Titans upset the Ravens as well, meaning the Chiefs need just one win to host the conference championship for the second straight year. Everything is set up perfectly for the Chiefs, and that’s typically when they find a way to screw it up. And, boy, do they ever screw it up. Except the Chiefs introduce a new wrinkle: They screw things up from the start. Blown coverage gives the Texans an easy touchdown; 7-0. The Chiefs have their punt blocked; 14-0. The Chiefs fumble a punt return; it’s 21-0 before the end of the first quarter, and Kansas City’s receivers have already dropped four passes. The Texans are driving down the field to start the second quarter, Arrowhead Stadium is awash in boos, and the only words I am able to form when my wife asks what’s happened is to say that I’ve just witnessed the worst 40 minutes of my sporting life. What follows might not be the best 40 minutes of my sporting life, but only because I sat in the same room four years and three months earlier when the Kansas City Royals staged one of the most improbable comebacks in baseball history against the Houston Astros, scoring five runs in the eighth inning after being down 6-2 and just six outs away from elimination, and winning 9-6 on their way to their first World Series title in 30 years. This time, I sit—and pace, jump, and occasionally scream—as the Chiefs erase a 24-point deficit in less than 11 minutes of game time. Mahomes throws four touchdowns in the second quarter alone, which would be a historic occurrence if he hadn’t done the same thing against the Raiders in Week 2. (No other Chiefs quarterback has ever passed for four touchdowns in a quarter.) Safety Daniel Sorensen makes the play of his life, sniffing out a fake punt on a fourth-and-4 and completing an open-field tackle to single-handedly stop the Texans from getting a first down, before forcing a fumble on Houston’s next kickoff return. The Chiefs become the first NFL team in history, regular season or playoffs, to lead at halftime after trailing by 24 points. Mahomes got in the ring with a generation-long curse, took a haymaker, and said, Is that the best you got? And in the course of one afternoon, 30 years of bad Chiefs juju was wiped away. It was as if the Chiefs were ganged up on by every playoff ghost they had ever encountered, and Mahomes simply vaporized them with an astonishing aerial display. The Chiefs scored a touchdown on seven consecutive drives. They won by 20 points. Andy Reid, Jim Nantz, and Patrick Mahomes Scott Winters/Icon Sportswire via Getty Images ItIt is the AFC championship game, and I am not watching from my brother’s house. We—my brother, my nephew, and me—are at Arrowhead Stadium instead. We have flown to Kansas City to witness history. The Chiefs are one game away from the Super Bowl, and all they have to do is beat the Titans, a fine football team who nevertheless went 9-7 during the regular season. While they watch from the stands, I sit in the press box, affording me a bird’s-eye view of what I hope will be the day the Lamar Hunt Trophy is finally awarded to the team that Lamar Hunt founded. The Titans take an early 10-0 lead, and I am nervous. But I’m not as nervous as I would be had the Chiefs not come back from 24-0 the week before. Once again the Chiefs rally, trailing 17-14 with 23 seconds left in the first half. That’s when I watch Mahomes drift left, elude a would-be tackler, give a second defender a head fake, and tiptoe the sideline before turning inside. He makes a spin move at the 5-yard line and bulldozes into the end zone. It is an instantly iconic play, one I know will forever rank among the most indelible sports memories I’ll experience live, and it gives the Chiefs the lead before halftime. With less than eight minutes left, the Chiefs have extended their lead to 11 points, but the outcome is still in doubt. Kansas City faces a third-and-6 from its own 40-yard line when Mahomes drops back in the pocket and scrambles right, and I notice Sammy Watkins gaining a step on his defender. Mahomes launches a perfect deep bomb that hits Watkins in stride, and Watkins saunters into the end zone. How perfect that the final dagger comes on an unnecessary deep throw on third down, a giant middle finger to the Chiefs’ offensive philosophy before Mahomes. Only this quarterback would have the conviction to make that throw. Only this head coach would let him. The stadium erupts, and fireworks go off. A wave of confetti floats by the press box, and the wind catches it just so, and for a moment it floats there, directly in front of my face. It feels like victory. It feels like catharsis. The Chiefs are going to the Super Bowl. 21 people are talking about this I stand in the locker room after the game, trying to process what I have just seen, trying to figure out whether the players understand the gravity of what they have just accomplished. How could they? I’ve been rooting for the Chiefs for longer than most of them have been alive. Patrick Mahomes Senior wasn’t born the last time the Chiefs played in the Super Bowl. Aside from punter Dustin Colquitt, not one member of the roster was even in the organization when it lost to the Ravens in the wild-card round nine years ago. These players can lay claim to the AFC championship, but the end of a 50-year drought is not theirs to claim, nor should they want any part of that. The only person who has the full perspective is owner Clark Hunt, who admits in his postgame press conference that he was too young to have memories of Super Bowl IV. The first playoff game he remembers is the infamous Christmas Day loss in 1971. I meet my brother after the game, and we high-five and hug. I hug my nephew as well, who is excited and thrilled and doesn’t know enough to be relieved. Maybe I should be jealous of him, this 8-year-old who has never known a bad Chiefs team and who, with any luck, will have Patrick Mahomes be his favorite team’s quarterback until after he graduates college. But I suddenly realize: I am not jealous of him at all. I actually feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. He may never know the price of greatness. He may never learn how to appreciate the journey as much as the destination.

It's not rocket science what the 9ers do. On D they play predominantly a cover 3 zone and on offense they use they same zone running system his dad used in denver in the 90s. They're just good at both. 9ers played the highest percentage of zone coverage in the NFL on 2019. Pat Mahomes had his best stats against zone. I personally think the 9ers will have to get out of their base defensive system to stop us. We can also dictate their personnel somewhat on D, and force them to swap out a good LB for a mediocre DB. Their DBs past Sherman I do not feel can keep up with our WR depth.

As a professional pot stirrer, I would have thought game would recognize game.